You're Everything I Think I Need
by define-serenity
Summary: [Barry/Caitlin] Now, he's nervous, a bouquet of her favorite flowers clutched to his chest, a carefully planned night waiting to unfold. He still hasn't decided if it will be the most romantic or most disastrous – he likes making romantic gestures, but only time would tell if he's actually good at them. ONESHOT. COMPLETE.


Barry/Caitlin, 3498 words, pg-rated

written for **anisstaranise**, who wanted their anniversary in my 'verse and the parallel 'verse!

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_**You're Everything I Think I Need**_

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He taps at the door with the tips of his fingers a few times, a quiet ruffle Caitlin always picks up on, even though he meant it to be a non-intrusive and almost imperceptible sound the first few times he ended up on her doorstep. The first time he'd been searching for Ronnie, only to find a devastated Caitlin on the kitchen floor, clutching a note to her chest that was meant as a goodbye, a _you're better off without me_, but if the tear-stained ink was any indication Caitlin had taken it to mean something different. He'd sat on the floor beside her with his knees close to his chest, and let her cry on his shoulder.

The second time he needed the comfort; Iris was out with Eddie, Dr Wells and Cisco were working on a project at the lab and ever since Ronnie left Caitlin had taken to her apartment a whole lot more. He suspected she did so to spare the rest of the world her tears, a sentiment he understood all too well. They'd sat at her kitchen table together nursing a big mug of coffee and talked about all but their worries, a practice they had down to an art between the two of them, even if it ended up spinning into something more meaningful with time.

Now, he's nervous, a bouquet of her favorite flowers clutched to his chest, a carefully planned night waiting to unfold. He still hasn't decided if it will be the most romantic or most disastrous – he likes making romantic gestures, but only time would tell if he's actually good at them; Caitlin tells him he is, she likes the flowers, the failed home-cooked meals replaced with take-out, cuddling on the couch, but her stories told him Ronnie failed at romance consistently in an adorable sort of way, so he wonders if her picture of it hadn't been distorted.

Still, he tries, because he's that kind of guy, and Caitlin deserves the world.

Caitlin opens the door with a breath and a smile, growing wider once her eyes fall to the flowers in his arms. "Hey, you." She blinks up at him and waits for him to come in.

"Hey, yourself." He smiles, taking in her outfit; a dress he's seen her wear before, combined with stockings and boots this time, because he told her to dress warmer. He finds her eyes again. "You look amazing."

"Thank you," she answers with a tone on the right side of haughty –she knows she looks good in those little getups of hers–, before finally moving a step closer. "Happy anniversary."

He leans in and pushes a lingering kiss to Caitlin's mouth, one she readily returns with eager lips. "Happy anniversary," he whispers softly, and steals another kiss.

Caitlin takes the flowers into the kitchen, uncovering a vase from under the sink and filling it with water, spreading the stems out evenly along the rim; he watches her from the doorway, her small shoulders bare, beautiful brown curls cascading down her back.

"Sorry, I'm late," he says, a little bit out of breath still, every time he takes the time to realize, _I make her smile, this beautiful girl, and I get to call her mine_.

"You're not." Caitlin raises an amused eyebrow at him as she shrugs on a jacket. "You're exactly on time."

"Oh." He fidgets until he puts his hands inside the pockets of his jacket. "Well then." He crooks his elbow so it leaves a gap for Caitlin's arm. "Shall we?"

Caitlin takes his arm, but his cheerful attitude earns him a scowl nonetheless. "Are you finally going to tell me where we're going?" she asks, a slightly different permutation of the same question she's been asking all week – he's not usually that good at keeping secrets, he told Iris and Joe about his plans, Cisco, too, and he's pretty sure even Director Singh has some notion of how his night will unravel. He's none too sure how comfortable he is with that, though.

He laughs, freeing one of his hands so he can twine their fingers together. "Not a chance, Dr Snow."

They take Caitlin's car, which he drives, but he still doesn't see the point in spending thousand of dollars on a vehicle that would remain stationary more often than not – ever since he discovered his powers he hasn't been patient enough to so much as stop for a red light, and being as tardy as he is, well, running everywhere just seemed like the best option. Still, he promised himself he'd slow down, if only for one night, if only to spare Caitlin's hair the incessant _whoosh_ he ruffles it with every time he speeds away. He wants this night to be special, because Caitlin's precious to him and they have something he never dreamed he could combine with the crazy life he leads; but Caitlin had proven him wrong before.

He just hopes she'll like her surprise. She didn't talk about her childhood very often, but when she did in the quietest of nights he filed away every word and turn of phrase, all to make sure that one day he might make it better, soothe some of the pain her mom leaving caused, scaffold any resentment she hides towards her father; even though a lot of her dad's time went into supporting them both and left little time for father-daughter moments, the man never left her, he raised her, put her through school, and Caitlin's forever grateful for that.

"Where are we going?" Caitlin asks casually, putting on her seatbelt.

"You're not getting it out of me."

"Just for future reference." Caitlin raises an index finger. "I do not like surprises."

He shakes his head and laughs. "You say that now."

They reach their destination twenty minutes later, and Caitlin's eyes go wide peering out of the window. One of the memories he cherishes the most is the first time Caitlin stayed over at his apartment; they'd gone out to dinner and taken a walk by the water, before settling in front of the TV with a bowl of popcorn. They'd watched some rom-com he can't remember the title of, and he'd noticed Caitlin's eyes flicker away from the screen for the first half hour of the movie, until he'd finally paused the DVD. And he'd watched Caitlin fidget and avoid his eyes once he asked what was wrong, see the crooked and awkward smile pull at her lips for a few moments before she blushed, and embarrassingly admitted she never had any of the typical high school experiences.

He'd staunchly ended the movie and listened to her talk, drawing closer and closer.

So when their anniversary started nearing he searched for the nearest fair in town and planned their night accordingly – he was going to give his girlfriend typical high school experiences, damn the fact that they were both nerds in high school and hadn't actually attended in years.

Now that they're parked and the different jingles from all the sidestalls waft towards them, his nerves kick in again. Is this even something Caitlin wants?

He taps his fingers against the steering wheel and purses his lips, watching Caitlin breathe a soft, "Barry," while one hand already clutches at the door handle.

"Is this okay?" he blurts out, eyebrows rising. "I can take you somewhere else if–"

Caitlin faces him again and reaches over for his hand. "It's perfect," she smiles, stealing oxygen straight from his lungs.

The knot in his chest unstrings steadily, a little more with every smile and every giggle he manages to coax from Caitlin. They walk hand in hand through the lanes, vendors calling out to them to try their games, but they get some cotton candy first, sugar stuck to their lips and fingers, to Caitlin's nose at one point, which he whisks away with a finger before kissing her underneath colored neon lights, blue and green and yellow playing in her eyes, her lips parting against his with a small sigh. He'll be the hopeless romantic if it means creating small oases of happiness in their turbulent lives, if it means getting to come home to either of their apartments and relax or heal after a long hard day, if it means he gets to be with this girl who pretty much knows every little thing about him.

He uses his powers at the Hit-The-Bell game, which earns him a playful elbow to the ribs.

"That's cheating," Caitlin scolds.

He narrows his eyes at her. "I'm meant to impress you, aren't I?"

"You didn't have any powers in high school."

"Alright." He grins. "Next one I'm winning fair-and-square. No powers."

Caitlin quirks an eyebrow while a smile pulls around her mouth. "Now _that _I'll find impressing."

They end up at a milk bottle throw game, the vendor referring to Caitlin as his 'lovely lady', which he can't argue with, but Caitlin regards with her healthy dose of skepticism.

"These things are always rigged," she says to him softly.

He frowns, wondering if any fair vendor actually put that much thought into their games. Isn't the whole point of this to have fun?

"The bases are weighed down with lead," Caitlin explains, eyeing the stack of bottles suspiciously and it might just be the single most adorable thing he's ever seen. "The trick is to aim at the base of the bottom two containers rather than the intersection of all three bottles."

The only thing keeping him from thinking 'every time I think I can't love her more' is the hope that the feeling will never subside – Caitlin took him by surprise at every turn, her angry tirades whenever he put himself in harm's way, the soft side he has the privilege of witnessing, the side of her that's still determined to get him drunk longer than the twenty minutes she's achieved so far, and now a competitive streak.

"Just remember–"

He winks. "No cheating."

His first throw lands exactly to the base of the containers the way Caitlin described it and earns them three points, and he can't decide if he did use his powers or not, it's so hard to separate them sometimes. So he dials back on his second throw and aims where Caitlin told him not to, but the bottles topple over all the same. Maybe this was one game that wasn't rigged.

By the end he's gathered enough points to get about any prize, but he goes for the most obvious one: a giant stuffed bear that hangs over their heads, making Caitlin bounce up and down with joy.

"This is okay, right?" he asks cautiously after they get some sodas. "Tonight? It's not too cheesy? Or lame? You said you'd never–"

"Barry," Caitlin stops him short of begging for the exact affirmation. "This is perfect. You're perfect."

Perfect sounds so far from anything in their lives, but he knows what she means; their perfect isn't everyone else's perfect, their perfect might be as simple as him getting through the day without getting beaten bloody by a powerful meta-human, or meeting a meta-human that doesn't mean them any harm – but it's a perfect they've redefined, encapsulated in a life they've decided to live together, closer and closer each day. It hadn't been easy, their perfect had taken time and effort where other people might've fallen into it without question; Caitlin's came booby-trapped with past hurts and doubts, a loss she'd been forced to feel twice after Ronnie willingly left the second time; his came a little more carefree, a little more hopeful, though nonetheless riddled with worries about deserving someone like Caitlin in the first place. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her again.

Their lips meet in a kiss, sugared and soft, his hands cupping Caitlin's face. "I love you," she whispers to his lips, another kiss followed by a giggle when a vendor jokingly tells them to take it elsewhere.

"I love you too." He smiles, and brushes her hair back behind her ear. It's hard to believe sometimes that this is how it all worked out, despite Iris and Ronnie and their own reservations of diving into this at such an uncertain time in their lives – but they need each other now, he needs someone who knows every side of him, and Caitlin needs someone who knows the intricate outlines of the loss she once suffered; Ronnie might still be alive, but the explosion had changed him in ways no one could've predicted.

His cellphone rings, and he sighs; it's probably Cisco.

Caitlin smiles, hugging her new teddy bear close. "I was wondering when that would happen."

Cisco apologizes three times before he actually explains the reason for his call, but an armed robbery was steadily getting out of hand with the police pinned down on the scene. Duty calls, he thinks, as he stares into Caitlin's understanding eyes.

"I can drop you off at the lab?"

"No, I'll take my car," Caitlin says. "Go!"

And somewhere in the midst of his crazy life he realizes that Caitlin's right at the center of it, she's been at the center of it from the very start and one of the reasons he's kept going – no matter how many directions life pulls him in Caitlin's been there to patch up his wounds, both literally and figuratively.

"Move in with me," he spouts, even though he should get going, even though there's someone else who needs him right now, but he should tell Caitlin this every day that comes.

Caitlin blinks. "What?"

He runs a thumb down her jawline. "Think about it," he says, and pushes a quick kiss to her lips, until the _whoosh_ of him speeding away messes up her hair again.

It's not until much later that night, when the bad men have been stopped and innocent lives saved, after some cake and coffee with Cisco at Jitters, and he lies curled around her shorter frame in bed, that his request find footing again.

"We should," Caitlin mutters, pulling their locked hands close to her chest.

"We should what?" he asks, though he has some inkling of what she might mean.

She wriggles back against him to show him who's boss. "Move in together, idiot."

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(In a parallel reality, they celebrate their three-year anniversary at a restaurant neither of them can really afford, but because of the particularly special occasion his dad promised to pitch in for some of the bill. He's twenty-five and set to start his ER residency in a few weeks, and Caitlin's well on her way to becoming one of the most talented surgical residents CC General has ever seen, and sometimes there's so little time for this … but he knows he wants it, he'll want _her_, for the rest of his life.

His nerves had almost brought him to his knees a few times these past two weeks, his work interspersed with planning one of the biggest nights of his –_their_– lives. He hoped it would be one of the biggest ones, anyway.

Caitlin's still in the bathroom getting ready at the time he'd planned on leaving, but her shift at the hospital ran late and traffic had been a nightmare, so she'd kissed him with a quick, "Hi," half an hour ago, before disappearing into the bathroom. In that time he'd gotten dressed, called the restaurant to say they'd be late, and checked the box in his jacket pocket about five times.

He hadn't had to give it a lot of thought, just the necessary amount of thought expected from a sane person, but it was a no-brainer; he wanted to be with Caitlin and he'd like it to become a little more official than it already was – everyone at the hospital knew they were couple, if they didn't hear it from Caitlin's mom they would've known by looking at them, but this is the next logical step for them. His mom agreed, she'd even given him her mother's ring to give to Caitlin, a diamond-studded ring in the shape of a flower – it'd been in the family for a long time, and he couldn't really afford anything quite as fancy.

"Honey?" he calls, and carefully knocks at the door.

It's the bedroom door that opens –somehow he must've missed her dashing from one room to the other–, revealing Caitlin in a blue cocktail dress tailored at the waist, her hair tied together low down her neck; and his jaw about drops to the floor. He's never been able to figure out just how he ever managed to deserve someone as stunning _and_ brilliant as Caitlin Snow.

"Sorry I'm late."

"No." He blinks, his mouth dry. "Don't worry about it."

Caitlin's eyes narrow on his face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, of course," he tries to laugh it off, "_whywouldn'tibe_?"

Caitlin grabs her coat and her purse. "You just seem nervous, that's all."

"It's just– work," he lies, but he sees the skepticism in Caitlin's eyes clear as day. Turns out that apart from being the worst at keeping secrets, he also can't lie – it's really a testament to his self-restraint and stress-resistance that he hasn't already told Caitlin what he wanted to make this night about _besides_ their anniversary.

They walk to the restaurant; it's not far and he's planned a detour they've taken before. He takes hold of Caitlin's hand and entwines their fingers, leading her down familiar paths, until they find themselves on campus again.

Caitlin looks around in confusion. "Why are we here?"

"You don't remember this place?"

"Wh–" Caitlin puffs out and takes in her surroundings, the lane of poplar trees leading up to the administration building, the pavement splitting in paths between the patches of grass. Caitlin knew the campus like the back of her hand, it wasn't that she didn't know where they were, but this specific spot held more significance than just a location they frequented. And then realization dawns in her eyes. "This is where you kissed me for the first time." She smiles. "Why did you bring me here?"

He licks his lips, nerves tripping up and down his esophagus. "To ask you something."

Caitlin raises an eyebrow but doesn't pry, and remains quiet as he takes hold of her hands. "Caitlin Snow," he starts, having practiced this speech whenever he found the time; in between shifts at the hospital, when he was scrubbing into a surgery, in front of his dad, and whenever he hadn't been studying. "We've known each other for a long time now. You're my best friend, one of the most brilliant minds I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, and these past three years–"

"_Four_," Caitlin corrects softly.

He laughs, nerves unsteady around his mouth. They've been together for three years, but they've known each other for four, that much is true, and he wouldn't change that first year for the world either. "These past _four_ years have been so incredible. I want to have– _share_ a life with you, give you the life that you deserve."

_We deserve_, he thinks, _a life we deserve_.

He reaches inside his pocket and unearths the black velvet box, going down on one knee.

Caitlin gasps, her lips parting.

"Caitlin Snow." He opens the box, his heart launching an all-out assault in his chest. He's so nervous he might throw up, even though he doubts she'll turn him down – they love each other, he knows that. "Will you marry me?"

Tears fill up Caitlin's eyes and reflect in her voice when she breathes out a stuttered, "Yes", and he just about collapses at her feet – two weeks of preparation culminate in this one perfect moment shared between them, two weeks of pent up stress and anxiety falling heedlessly from his shoulders, every fear and doubt erased. He shouldn't doubt what they have, their perfect might not be anyone else's perfect, theirs revolves around poor sleeping schedules, crazy hours and barely enough time to eat, but it's a perfect nonetheless.

Caitlin bounces where she stands as he slowly slides the ring around her finger, a perfect fit, shining brilliantly in the moonlight. He stands and hugs her tight, his legs still a little unsteady as he mutters, "I love you," into her shoulder. "I love you so much."

Caitlin tightens her arms around his neck. "You sound like you thought I'd say no."

"Nah, you know you can't live without me," he teases, more confident than he's ever felt, and pulls back, enchanted by his fiancée's eyes time and again. "Happy anniversary."

"Happy anniversary." Caitlin smiles. "Wait until you see what I got you."

"You know I hate surprises."

"You won't hate this one." She pulls closer to whisper in his ear. "I'm wearing it under my dress.")

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**_fin_**

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